


Neil and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by jjmash



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjmash/pseuds/jjmash
Summary: Neil is having a shitty day in an already shitty month. Andrew deals with it.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 3
Kudos: 259





	Neil and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Nora mentioned in her extra content that Andrew never really comforts Neil; just his presence is enough to help Neil through the bad days. But I feel like even Neil would need a little bit more than that sometimes.

Neil was having an abnormally shitty month. It wasn’t abnormal because it was shitty, but rather because it was shitty in an unusually normal way–at least for Neil. He wasn’t fleeing danger or enduring torture, he was just having a perfectly ordinary bad month.

The Foxes had lost Neil’s first two games as captain, largely because the new freshmen weren’t integrating with the team in the way Neil needed them to. Kevin’s nagging was increasing both in frequency and unbearability as practices became more chaotic, and Jack didn’t miss an opportunity to throw in his own digs at Neil. The girls had graduated and left gaping holes in their wake; Neil desperately missed Dan’s calm authority on the court, Allison’s ruthlessness, and Renee’s stabilizing influence.

Between the additional late night practices with the freshmen and his many tutoring sessions (the general education chemistry class that Neil had put off for the last two years was now kicking his ass) Neil was left with very few hours of sleep and no time at all to spend with Andrew. He felt increasingly as though they were in a long distance relationship despite sharing a room, two classes, and an Exy court. 

The stress of it all would’ve been enough to send any normal person into a spiraling panic, but Neil was used to far worse. He easily brushed aside the lack of sleep, the annoyance with his teammates, and his intense fear of failing as captain. After all, he’d endured far worse and had the scars to prove it.

But even Neil had his breaking point.

The day started off bad and only got worse. Neil woke up to Kevin violently shaking his bed, shouting about practice times and the dangers of oversleeping, and as he stumbled toward the bathroom he realized the fuzziness in his head wasn’t the remnants of a poor night’s sleep but the beginning of what was sure to be a terrible cold. Someone had used the last of the coffee, and Neil was forced to take on morning practice without his caffeine crutch.

The freshmen seemed to be getting worse somehow, and it didn’t help that Kevin and Jack were taking turns yelling at them in between Neil’s instructions. Neil spent so long trying to get the rookies back on track that he didn’t have time to grab breakfast before he had to drag himself to his chemistry class, where he spent an hour failing a quiz he had forgotten about. He stumbled through his next class, his chemistry tutoring session, and his dinner in a detached daze.

By that evening’s practice Neil was fully wrecked–he felt as though the past three weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to him all at once, leaving him nauseous and unsteady. But Neil would never be kept off his court, and he was relentless as he ran drills with the rest of the team. Sometime during the second hour of practice things predictably began to unravel. One of the freshmen accidentally whacked Brian in the face with the end of his racket and the disgruntled sophomore immediately threw a punch that knocked the rookie flat on his back. A couple of the other freshmen moved forward to retaliate for their fallen teammate and Jack, never one to miss a fight, jumped right into the middle of it.

As Neil was trying to physically separate his much larger teammates and reinstate some semblance of order, he caught a sharp elbow to the head that left him staggering while he struggled to stay conscious. Jack and Brian stopped immediately; it was unclear who had thrown the hit, but Andrew was unlikely to care regardless. The freshmen, realizing that their opponents had effectively surrendered and were now busy trying to make themselves seem as small as possible, also came to a halt. 

Neil’s vision was still filled with black spots, but even he could see the dangerously blank look on Andrew’s face. Andrew had been observing the trainwreck of a practice with his typical cool disinterest, but he was paying attention now.

Brian offered a steadying hand to Neil. “Sorry Cap, we didn’t mean to get you.”

Neil nodded in response and had to choke back the vomit that even that small action threatened to produce.

“S’alright,” he slurred.

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew said in a low growl, cold anger dripping from his every syllable. The freshmen looked at Andrew with curiosity; no one had bothered to fill them in about Neil and Andrew’s relationship, and they didn’t realize yet just how afraid they should be.

“I’m fine,” Neil replied quickly, hauling himself into an upright position using his grip on Brian's elbow for leverage.

Kevin snorted disbelievingly and Andrew moved forward to peer directly into Neil’s eyes.

“Shut. the. fuck. up,” he repeated harshly, “or tell the fucking truth.”

Neil took a quick self-inventory. “Concussion,” he said. “I’m sure I'll be good to play next week,” he added when Andrew continued to stare at him.

“Junkie,” Andrew muttered under his breath, his hands fluttering up to massage Neil’s scalp and search for the hard lump that was already forming there. He pressed on it lightly and Neil had to stop himself from hissing in pain. 

Andrew seemed satisfied as he moved his hand away, trailing his fingers lightly down the side of Neil’s face before dropping them back to his side.

“No fucking way,” said one of the more perceptive freshmen. He ignored Matt’s warning look and Nicky’s cut-it-out hand gestures. “You guys are together? What the fuck?”

The other freshmen, slower to put together what they had just seen, began to talk over one another.

"The Cap and _Andrew?"_

"No way."

"How long–?"

Neil rolled his eyes, and Andrew leveled them all with a glare that immediately put an end to their questions. The short man strode over to the group of freshmen and one of his hands drifted down to the black bands wound tightly around his forearms.

“Don’t, Andrew,” Neil said in Russian. They had both decided last year to take up a new language that none of their teammates or family members could understand, and although they were still beginners they could now converse in small sentences.

“They hurt you,” Andrew replied, the freshmen looking on in confusion at the unfamiliar language. Their confusion slowly turned to terror as they saw what Andrew had withdrawn from his bands: the blade of a small dagger glinted under the fluorescent lights. 

“Not badly,” said Neil. “Don’t start this now.”

Andrew didn’t move, and Neil switched back to English. “Put it away,” he commanded. “You’ve scared them enough, they won’t do it again.”

Andrew looked unconvinced but returned the knife to its sheath. The freshmen let out a collective sigh of relief that was cut short when Andrew promptly elbowed each of them in the stomach. 

“That was unnecessary,” Neil said, but it was more exasperated than angry as he watched the rookies double over in pain.

Andrew merely shrugged and headed towards the locker rooms. Practice was technically over, so Neil waved for the rest of the team to follow his lead.

After packing up the equipment with help from Matt and a couple of the freshmen, Neil made his way to the showers. He pressed his head to the cool tile wall, seeking relief from the pain that was throbbing in his ears, and accidentally fell asleep (or maybe he passed out a little bit, Neil wasn’t really sure). He woke to Andrew pounding on the stall door, the water long since having run cold.

Neil quickly toweled off and walked back to the lounge where the rest of his teammates were already starting to leave. He intended to follow their lead and collapse into his bed as soon as possible, but Kevin intercepted him on his way to the door. 

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded, and launched into one of his usual tirades about team dysfunction and how they would be lucky to even make it to the championships at this point.

Neil had a fairly high tolerance for Kevin’s ranting – although he didn’t hero-worship Kevin the way he had when he first started at PSU, Neil still had a deep respect and appreciation for Kevin’s talent and dedication. But today was simply _not_ the day, and Neil found himself shoving Kevin out of his way without really thinking about it. This seemed to only encourage Kevin, who raised his voice a decibel as his face changed from a flushed pink to tomato red. 

“You’re better than this! You’re a Wesninski for fuck’s sake!” 

Neil stopped in his tracks at the sound of his old name and turned around to face Kevin again.

“What did you just say to me?”

The room went perfectly silent as Kevin seemed to realize his mistake. “I–no, Neil, I didn’t mean that, I just meant you’ve been through stuff that’s harder than this, you can pull it together…” Kevin trailed off, his usual confidence faltering.

Neil caught sight of himself in the dark TV screen behind Kevin, and suddenly it was all too much. The blurry reflection washed out all of Neil’s scars and left him staring at the ghost of his father. His father, who was branding him with a hot iron. His father, who was carving into him with a knife. His father, who was bearing down on him with an axe.

The younger Foxes didn’t notice the sudden change in their captain but Andrew was beside him in a second, his heavy hand pressing into the back of Neil’s neck.

 _Run, run, run_ chanted the long-dormant voice in Neil’s head. But his feet stayed planted to the floor, his legs going numb as he sank to his knees on the hard concrete.

“Out,” commanded Andrew sharply, and Matt started herding the younger players out the door; they were too confused to protest. The locker room emptied out until it was just Matt, Nicky, Kevin, and a disinterested Aaron left with Neil and Andrew. 

Andrew crouched down so he was level with Neil, his hand never leaving the back of his neck. Neil began to shake uncontrollably, but he didn’t notice it over the wild pounding of his own heart. Neil was gasping for air as the room disappeared around him, every scar burning hot as Lola pressed her lighter into him again and again and again.

“Stop it,” Andrew commanded harshly, squeezing the nape of his neck so hard it would probably bruise. Neil didn’t hear him, lost in his own memories as silent tears poured down his cheeks. The only sound in the room was Neil’s desperate gasps.

Matt started to move forward – to say something to bring Neil back to the present or do _something –_ but Andrew motioned for him to stay put. Nicky grasped Matt’s shoulder, their expressions both pained as they watched Neil struggle on the floor in front of them.

“Stop it,” Andrew repeated, but Neil still didn’t react, and Andrew knew immediately that something was very, very wrong. Neil had the occasional bad day, but usually all it took was the reassuring weight of Andrew’s touch or his calm, familiar voice to snap Neil out of it.

 _Fuck,_ Andrew thought to himself. He’d noticed Neil’s growing stress and unsustainable schedule, but Neil made his own stupid decisions and Andrew hadn’t said anything about it. He wondered now when the last time Neil slept for more than a few hours was. He hated himself a little bit for wondering and he hated Neil even more for making him care, but Andrew tried to focus on the problem at hand – Neil was close to either passing out or needing to be sedated.

“Neil,” Andrew said sharply, “you are Neil Josten, captain of the Palmetto State University Foxes, five foot three inches tall, fifth ranked striker in the country.” Neil didn’t respond, but he seemed to shake a little bit less as Andrew continued.

“Your favorite color is gray, you hate vegetables, and you have a key to the house in Columbia.”

Aaron shot his brother a curious glance, but Andrew just continued to stare intently into Neil’s eyes.

“You made me stop taking cracker dust.” 

Now it was Nicky’s turn to look surprised; Andrew had never told them the real reason he stopped ordering the drug at Sweetie’s.

“You burned your mother’s body on the West Coast.”

Matt audibly gasped. They all knew that Neil’s mother had died in front of him, but only Andrew knew the details. Andrew continued as though Matt hadn’t made any noise at all.

“Your father is dead, Neil. You were there when Stuart shot him. He’s dead and he’s not coming back.”

Neil managed to stop shaking, his hands clenched into fists so tight he would have half-moon imprints from his fingernails on his palms for weeks.

“You have a home, you have a family.” Andrew switched abruptly to Russian. “You have me.”

And then, finally, _“Stay.”_

Neil’s breath caught for a moment and he managed to get a lungful of air. He pushed it out and breathed in again as deeply as he could manage. Slowly his breathing returned to normal and his surroundings swam back into reality. He looked into Andrew’s hazel eyes until the image of his father had completely faded and his scars had stopped burning. Andrew gave one final squeeze of Neil’s neck and then hauled him up to a standing position. Neil found himself leaning into the shorter man slightly, but Andrew didn’t say anything about it as he tugged Neil towards the door, leaving the rest of their teammates behind them in shocked silence.

It wasn’t until Neil was safely tucked into the passenger seat of the Maserati and the stadium was a distant image in the rearview mirror that Neil finally spoke.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“Don’t let it get that bad again,” Andrew warned.

“I just have so much to do now,” Neil replied, but he broke off when he saw the look Andrew was sending him.

“Do less,” he said, and it wasn’t a suggestion.

They sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the drive home.


End file.
